


We're All Dead Here

by sunkelles



Series: Femslash February 2017 [16]
Category: Black Mirror
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Happily married wlw, Same Sex Adoption, San Junipero, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: San Junipero starts up an adoption program for dying children. Kelly and Yorkie are some of the program’s first applicants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. this fic deals with some heavy issues, but i hope that overall it comes out uplifting. I blame the anon on tumblr that suggested that yorkie would be a good mom. because i was just like!!!! what if she was!!!!!!
> 
> 2\. Nomi Marks from Sense8 makes an appearance because why the fuck not. a good friend of mine taught me that mixing fandoms can be great so i'm doing it alllll over the place. it will never stop now
> 
> 3\. warning for subtle transphobia and consistent misgendering. It’s not intentional or malicious but the misgendering happens for ¾ of the fic. also, i think that i did a good job with the gender issue, but please let me know if you disagree. i'm cis-er than the sistine chapel. 
> 
> 4\. fic was titled "we love our dead trans son" but a friend mentioned that could be triggering. 
> 
> I don't know if that was an issue, but better safe than sorry right?

San Junipero is a mass of contradictions. Technically, they are all dead, but most of them are the most full of life they have ever been. They're not required to do any sort of work or social engagement, but most people do because it helps them feel alive. Which they aren't, but they are, but they aren't.

 

It’s complicated.

 

The most "dead" people are the ones refusing to really live. It is hard to build a community properly when all of the members aren’t there. Kelly remembers reading something in college about how proper communities can’t alienate their elderly and their children. San Junipero has an abundance of elderly people. No matter what they look like, they’re almost _all_ elderly. What they are lacking is children.

 

TCKR has been trying to fix that. They have been trying to implement a system for children dying of terminal illnesses to pass over to San Junipero for a second chance. They’re creating the infrastructure for it as well. Public schools are popping up again, with teachers who desperately missed interacting with kids. Couples have come forward offering to adopt.

 

There are some kinks. Children have to have reached a certain point in their development for their consciousnesses to properly upload to the cloud. There is also the unanswered question of whether or not their brains will be able to develop after they cross over. They don’t know if they will grow and mature naturally, or if they’ll be stuck in a state of perpetual childhood like the immortal children in that god awful vampire series Alison made Kelly read all those years ago.

 

There are a lot of kinks to work out. Kelly doesn’t know if the system will work, and she doesn’t know if it’s good idea in the first place. Yorkie, however, wants to try it.

 

“I always thought that I’d want kids,” Yorkie says, burying her head in the crook of Kelly’s neck, “just never got the chance first time round.” Yorkie didn’t get the chance to do much of anything her first time around.

"You really wanna do this?" Kelly asks, turning her head back to look at her.

"Yeah," Yorkie says, "I do."

"Alright then," Kelly says, "when can we sign up?" Yorkie laughs, and she kisses her. Kelly melts into it, and tries to let her worries melt away.

 

They apply for adoption the next day. Kelly and her husband had Alison themselves, so Kelly didn’t have any experience with adoption. She did know that the process was extensive and required crazy background checks and working through a ton of red tape. The process in San Junipero feels like a movie put on fast forward.

 

They are promised a few visitations in order for both their possible child and for them to test out the waters. They don’t get that. They get the call in the middle of the night. Kelly groans as the phone rings. 

“You getting that?” Yorkie asks,

“I don’t wanna move,” Kelly groans into the pillow. Kelly can hear Yorkie rolling her eyes as she gets up and picks up the phone herself.

“Yes, this is Yorkie,” she says. There’s a long pause as the person on the other end of the line speaks.

“Yeah, of course. We’ll be right there.”

“Wait, where are we going? It’s three in the morning.”

“Our daughter just passed over.” Kelly sits right up.

“What? She wasn’t supposed to pass over for months.”

“I know,” Yorkie says, “but she did.” Kelly tries to calm herself down a little. It’s just- they were supposed to have time to prepare for this. They were supposed to get to know each other. She was supposed to have time to adjust to San Junipero, and they were supposed to have time to adjust to the idea of being moms.

 

When she had Alison, she had nine months of pregnancy to prepare for a baby. Now they have thirty minutes to prepare for a preteen.

 

They get straight in the car, and drive over to the adoption agency. The woman that they’ve been working with greets them immediately. Beside her stands a gangly white girl in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her brown hair is cut short, probably something from the chemo. She has a little button nose, scattered freckles, and light brown eyes. She doesn’t look a thing like either Kelly or Yorkie, but they don’t care.

“You must be Lexi,” Yorkie says, sending the girl a soft smile. Lexi stiffens a little.

"You're not my parents.” Yorkie flinches a little, and Kelly realizes that this is going to be far harder than she’d expected.

"We want to try, Lexi," Yorkie says.

"I don't need any moms," she says, "I already have one."

“Lexi, dear,” the adoption agent says, “they aren’t trying to replace your mom.”

“You said they adopted me,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That doesn’t mean that your parents aren’t still your parents,” Kelly says.

“Yeah, it just means you want me to forget about them.” She sounds angry, and there are the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

“That isn’t it at all,” Yorkie says, “we just- we want to help you out when you’re here, because your parents can’t be.” Lexi glares, but she doesn’t say anything. She allows them to take care of the paper work, and eventually rides back with them in their car .They both try to get her to talk. She won’t tell them anything, and after they bring her home and show her her room, she goes inside and closes the door.

“Well,” Yorkie says, sitting down on the couch, “that went great.” Yorkie sounds so disappointed. There’s a hint of self-loathing in her tone, like she’s blaming herself for how things went.

“Babe, this isn’t you fault.”

“Maybe if we’d done something different, she’d feel more welcome.”

“She’s thirteen and she just died,” Kelly says, “things are gonna be hard for her, no matter what. We just have to make sure she knows that we’re there for her.”

  


Kelly knocks on Lexi’s door at seven the next morning. She comes to the door in the same oversized t-shirt she was wearing yesterday. Kelly really needs to teach her about how you can create any wardrobe you want here in San Junipero.

“What?” She demands, glaring.

“You’re going to school,” Kelly tells her.

“What?” Lexi says, “I’m _dead._ Why do I have to go to school?”

“So you can meet other dead kids and complain about it,” Kelly says.

“I don’t have any clothes to change into,” she says, “I’m not going to school in this.”

“You can just imagine a different outfit,” Kelly tells her, “try it.” Lexi sends her a skeptical look, but closes her eyes and thinks of something. A pair of plain jeans and a red hoodie appear on her body. Then, Kelly takes her to the middle school.

 

She comes back home, and she and Yorkie watch a few movies and check, double check, and triple check all rooms in the house to make sure that their sex toys are all in the bedroom.

 

Both Kelly and Yorkie come to the school to pick her up. Yorkie suggests going up to the door to pick her up, but Kelly’s pretty sure that’s a bad idea.

“I remember when Alison was that age, she’d never want to be seen around me and her dad. She thought we were embarrassing.” Yorkie nods, like that makes sense. Alison, however, had not just died and been adopted by a nice interracial lesbian couple. Whatever was normal for Lexi doesn’t apply anymore.

She comes out of the school at 3 o’clock, and she seems happier than she was last night. Maybe not happy, but at least less torn up than she was. Lexi opens up the backdoor, and slides in.

“Hi,” she says. Yorkie and Kelly try to get her to open up about her day at school, to no avail. She won’t even talk to them.

Until she demands, “Why are you even doing this?”

“You mean adopting you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lexi says, “I remember reading something about how parents never want older kids. I know that babies and toddlers can’t pass over, but wouldn’t you prefer a younger kid? I’m an angsty teen.” Kelly laughs a little,

“We weren’t too picky, Lexi.” The girl stiffens at the name. “But we like you, and we want to help you adjust to being here. After passing over, things are weird.”

“You all keep saying passing over and full timers and junk,” Lexi says, “why don’t you just call it what it is? Dying and dead people?” 

“It’s not something we love thinking about,” Yorkie tells her.

“But it’s the truth,” Lexi says, “we’re dead.”

"Sure, you’re dead," Kelly says, "but if you weren't here you'd be gone. You wouldn't be standing in a beach town." Kelly understands the girl’s misgivings with the situation, but she also doesn’t want her to think that everything is awful. She still has a chance here. Lexi glares.

"This is your second chance," Kelly says.

"I don't want a second chance," she says.

"I didn't think I wanted one either," Kelly says.

"No, you just- you don't get it. I wasn't supposed to _need_ a second chance. I was supposed to keep my first one."

“Oh,” Yorkie says.

"I'm only thirteen," she says, "I never even went to high school. I just want my first chance back.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I never got a first chance either?” Yorkie asks cautiously. That’s _big._ Yorkie wouldn’t even talk about her past until after they got married. The offer to tell Lexi about it right now, that’s a big one.

“No.”

"I'm sorry, Lexi," Yorkie says. The girl’s looks turns to a scowl.

"Don't call me that," she says. Yorkie bites her lip, and Kelly tries to figure out what to say. No one says anything until they get to the house, and then Lexi storms out of the car. They can only assume she’s going to lock herself in her room again.

"Oh god," Yorkie says.

"Teenagers are like this, sometimes," Kelly promises her.

"Really?" Yorkie asks. She hasn't known teenagers since she was a teenager, and that was a _long_ time ago.

"Alison acted like this, and she didn't have to deal with dying," Kelly says. Then Kelly laughs bitterly.

“At least, not when she was thirteen.” Yorkie wraps her arm around her, and then it turns into a comforting hug. 

  


Kelly worries about her a little, but she comes down to get ready for school the next day. Kelly thinks that’s a good sign. She didn’t even have to wake her up.

“What is it?” Lexi asks, looking up from her cereal, “you both look weird.”

"We, uh, we wanted to ask what you want us to call you?” Yorkie asks.

“Wait, what?”

“You didn’t want us to call you Lexi, and we don’t wanna call you something you don’t like.” The girl cracks a smile.

“I like Alex,” she says, “will you call me that?”

“Sure,” Yorkie says.

“Alex it is,” Kelly adds.

"Wait, really?" Alex says, seeming shocked that they agreed.

"Of course," Kelly says, "we'll call you what you want to be called." She seems _happy_ for once as they go to the car.

"I just- I don't like being Lexi," she says, "I never could tell my parents that, though." Kelly nods.

"We'll call you Alex," Kelly promises. Then, she gets ready to take _Alex_ to school.   
  


Alex seems happier now that they call her Alex. A little more confident in her skin. Things go more smoothly, over all. Kelly doesn’t understand why Alex doesn’t change her hair, though. She asks Yorkie as much, one morning over coffee.

 

"Do you think she knows she can look however she wants?" Yorkie asks cautiously.

"You remember when I first came here," she says, "I clung to my glasses like a lifeline, even though I didn't need them anymore. Maybe she just, she might feel like she _has_ to keep it that way, because it's how it was when she died."

"We should mention it to her, then," Kelly says, "she's getting more confident in herself. Maybe that'll help too." Kelly nods, and takes a sip of coffee.

“You know that’s my cup, right?” Yorkie asks. Kelly laughs, and tries not to look too embarrassed.

“Yep,” she says, “that was totally intentional." 

“Sure it was.” Kelly lies her head on Yorkie's shoulder, and the world feels like it stops in that moment. 

  


That day after school, Kelly broaches the subject. She waits until they get back to the house, so that she can give it her full attention. She doesn’t have a great track record with her convos while driving.

"You wanna grow your hair out?" Kelly suggests.

"What do you mean?" Alex asks.

"I just mean that you _can_ grow it out _._ You can make it look however you want." Kelly makes her hair look like Rapunzel’s, and then returns it to normal. Alex doesn’t seem phased by the change, like she was completely unsurprised.

"I like it like this," Alex says, protectively touching her head. Kelly couldn't imagine why she likes it. It's cut boy-short, a buzzcut, really. But if that's what makes her happy, she isn't going to make her change it.

"That's alright then," she says, "I just wanted you to know you had the option." Alex nods.

"Thanks," she says. It sounds a little forced, but Kelly chalks that up to her situation in general.  
  


Something is up, Kelly can tell. Alex seems more withdrawn again, more uncomfortable. She gets all awkward and flustered when Yorkie suggests joining a girls’ sports team. With this on top of her aversion to the name Lexi, and her hair, Kelly has a idea about what might be going on.

 

She and Yorkie made a good friend at Tucker’s a few months ago. A woman named Nomi Marks, who passed over and is now waiting for her long term partner, a woman named Amanita. (They’d never married, even though they could, because they both opposed the legal institution for various reasons)

 

Nomi had told them a few stories from her childhood, about how she realized that she was a girl. The dysphoria she described having when realizing she was trans seems familiar. She asks Yorkie about it, and they both decide that it’s something they should at least check out. Kelly dials Nomi up one afternoon.

"Yeah, Nomi, I think I need your help."

 

Nomi is over within a few hours, and Alex seems suspicious the moment she walks through the door. 

“Who is this?” Alex asks, crossing their arms over their chest.

“I’m Nomi,” she says, “your moms and I thought we could talk?”

“I don’t know what you’d want to talk about,” Alex says.

“I’m trans," she says. Alex seems a little startled for a moment, and then almost excited.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” they say, “let’s talk.” Alex leads Nomi into their room. Yorkie and Kelly sit at the kitchen counter, drinking beer and talking.

“They’ve been in there a long time,” Yorkie says.

“I think that’s a good sign,” Kelly sayss. Yorkie nods, and takes another swig. 

 

About an hour later, Alex comes out. Nomi follows her.

“Thank you, Nomi,” Alex says.

“Anytime,” Nomi says, “I don’t want anyone to feel as alone as I did. Especially not when you have such great moms.”

“Thanks for your help, Nomi,” Yorkie says.

“I think it’s time you two had a talk with your son,” Nomi says as she exits the house.

“So, you’re a boy?” Kelly asks. Alex nods.

“I’m really sorry about the hair thing,” Kelly says, “I didn’t even think.”

“It’s alright,” Alex says, “I see why you thought that. I hadn’t- well, I. I didn’t tell you why it wouldn’t be.”

“Did you know before you came here?” Yorkie asks cautiously.

“Yeah, kind of,” Alex says, “I just always tried to push it down. My parents always wanted a daughter. I have three older brothers, and they were so happy to have me. I tried to push it down, so that I could be their perfect daughter, but I think I always kinda knew I wasn’t. They were so happy to have a daughter.” His voice gets a little choked up.

"I don't know if they'd still love me, since I’m their son," he says. His voice sounds scarred, hollow. Kelly can't tell him that his parents would accept him no matter what. She knows what happened with Yorkie’s parents, and she knows that some parents are just hateful.

 

She doesn't know his parents. She can't say that for sure. It would be a white lie, one that might bite him in the ass one day when they finally meet again.

 

"I'm so sorry," Kelly says, "I know you want me to say that they would." Alex nods, tears in his eyes.

"I can't though," she says, "I don't know your parents." Yorkie nods.

"But if they're worth it, they'll still love you," Kelly says.

"And they'll be proud of you for being so brave," Yorkie says. He bites his lip.

"I know we're not your moms," Yorkie says, "but we'll be there for you. No matter what. We made you a promise."

"I want you to be my moms," he says. Yorkie looks shocked, and Kelly’s shocked as well. That’s not something she ever expected Alex to say.

“Really?” Yorkie asks.

“Yeah, really,” Alex says. Yorkie scoops them both into a hug, and Kelly feels teardrops fall on her jacket. She’s not sure whose they are.

“I love my dead gay wife,” Kelly says, hugging tightly, “and I love my dead trans son.” And they laugh, not because it’s funny, really, but because it’s ridiculous and happy. They laugh because somehow life just got so much better.


End file.
